Classified: CIA Edition
by dalekchung
Summary: Alex, on his next mission in America, gets taken by the CIA on suspicion of a terrorist attack. Too bad Byrne is out of town… Let's just call in the FBI, shall we? One-shot! Part of my "Classified" mini-series!


**Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own Alex. He's not my slave…**

**WARNING: If you haven't read "Classified: FBI Edition", you may be very confused. Go read it… Well, only if you want.**

Classified: CIA Edition

"_War means fighting, and fighting means killing." _

― _Nathan Bedford Forrest_

"Put your hands where I can see them!" The man was severely annoyed with his superiors. This was supposed to be his day off – no guns, no attacks, no killing. He just wanted a nice, calm day with his wonderful family.

The young man in front of him lounged lazily on the couch, not even batting an eye at the gun pointed directly at his head. He matched the description that the man had been given. Spiky black and red hair, green eyes, lip piercings, and green tattoos running all over his arms and neck. _Felix Brown._

"FBI! Show me your hands!" The man shouted again. His partner (for the assignment) had slithered up next to him. His partner, Danny Griffin or simply 'Griffin', was a relatively new agent. He'd been a Navy SEAL until he had been dishonorably discharged for inadvertently causing the death of one of his comrades.

Felix Brown, the boy, looked amused, "No, you're not."

"What?" Griffin's grip on his gun tightened.

"_Show me your hands!" _The man cocked the gun menacingly.

The boy rolled his eyes and lifted his arms. Griffin was the first to react, snapping handcuffs over the teenager's wrists. He gestured to another agent to take Felix down to the van.

Once Felix was out of sight, Griffin rounded on him, "What did he mean by 'no, you're not'?"

The man shrugged helplessly, holstering his weapon, "Maybe he knew we weren't really FBI? If he really is involved in the terrorist attack, he would have access to some of that information."

Griffin shrugged, "I don't like this, Lloyd..."

Lloyd grimaced, making his way to the door, "I don't either. Come on. We might get something out of the boy."

The other man shook his head, "I hate to break it to you, but that boy isn't going to give away much. He's got that look in his eyes..."

C*I*A

"_WHAT ARE YOU TARGETING?" _

Lloyd couldn't help but wince at the pure volume that came out of the agent's mouth. He and Griffin were standing in the corner of the interrogation room, watching as the boy flailed around, to no avail. His arms and legs were strapped down to the table. It was tilted downward, so Felix was hanging at a forty-five degree angle. Just looking at him made Lloyd want to throw up.

"_Tell me!" _The man interrogating the boy ripped the wet cloth off of Felix's face, giving him time to reply.

Felix gasped for air, his spiky hair flattening. Absentmindedly, Lloyd noticed that the boy's eyes were no longer green. They were a murky brown.

"What the hell?" He muttered to himself, pointing it out Griffin.

The boy struggled again as the man sighed and tried to fix the cloth back on his face, "No! _No!"_

"Are you ready to talk?" The interrogator looked relieved at the fact that he didn't need to continue torturing a teenager.

Felix gasped for air like a fish on the land. He wiggled furiously, coughing and breathless, "John Smith and Delilah Green!"

Lloyd turned to Griffin, who was already halfway out of the door, "On it!"

The interrogator crossed the room with giant strides. He reached Lloyd, muttering in his ear, "That wasn't a place. Should we keep… _going?"_

Lloyd nearly shuddered, "No. Let's see what Griffin comes up with. He might be giving us a vital clue."

The interrogator nodded and murmured, "Let's get him out of there. I can't stand myself right now."

Lloyd nodded in agreement, watching Felix. Light reflected off of his glassy brown eyes. His black hair stuck to his face. His lip piercings had ripped off in his struggles, leaving smeared blood and a long cut on his lower lip.

They put Felix into an interrogation room, tossing him a white towel, and cuffing him to the table. Lloyd stood outside the room, studying the young man carefully. Though he had basically cut his lip open, Felix didn't touch the wound or even bother to acknowledge the pain that had to be there.

The door behind him opened softly and quiet footsteps alerted Lloyd that it was Griffin. The man was evidently confused, "John Smith and Delilah Green are FBI agents."

Lloyd turned back to the boy, "That explains how he knew we weren't the FBI. What are they to him? Family? Have you called them yet?

Griffin shook his head, "We just called them – they should be here soon. Here's the weird part: they have no relationship with Felix. In fact, Felix Brown didn't exist until four months ago."

"What?" Lloyd stared at his temporary partner and back to the silent boy, "He's not real?"

"That would be correct."

Lloyd had heard the door opening and the pounding footsteps of two people. Unlike Griffin, he didn't jump. Lloyd stared determinedly at the mysterious boy, "Explain."

In the reflection of the glass, Lloyd saw the man, presumably John Smith, and the woman, Delilah Green. They were dressed in typical suits with their guns bulging out to the side.

"His name is Alex Rider," Smith's tone clearly indicated that he didn't like the boy, "and he works with MI6. Why isn't Byrne here? He's usually the one defending Rider."

Lloyd shrugged. He had only met the deputy director once in his seven years in the CIA. Griffin, on the other hand…

"He's out of town," his partner told the FBI agents, "Sorry, did you say MI6?"

"Yeah," Green's face showed no expression, unlike Smith's, who held a dark frown, "It was a bit of a shock to us too."

"We should untie him," Griffin was making his way to the door.

However, Lloyd wasn't a spy for no reason. He was cautious. He was paranoid. He didn't know if the two agents were undercover terrorists that had infiltrated the FBI, "How do we know that you're legit?"

Everyone paused to stare at him. Turning around, he saw Smith's face turn pink. It was rising in color. Light pink… hot pink… a light shade of red… a firetruck red… a lovely burgundy…

"You don't," Green broke the silence, "You just have to trust us."

There was another pause as Lloyd compiled a list of pros and cons. Eventually, he gave a tiny nod, "If we get blown up or something, I made the wrong decision."

The whole room deflated with tension. Griffin smiled a little, gesturing to the door. The two agents made their way in, Lloyd and Griffin following closely.

Felix – _Alex – _looked up as they walked in, grim amusement painted on his pale face.

"You look like shit," was Smith's first words as they sat down around the metal table.

Alex smirked back at him. Lloyd wondered how his lip wasn't bothering him. It looked painful, "Lovely as always, Smith. Your face seems to have taken on a different shade of puce."

Smith's face began to color again, but he restrained himself. Lloyd could tell from his jerky movements that he was doing everything in his power not to jump across the table and pummel the kid.

"You work for MI6." Griffin was staring at the teenage with an unreadable expression.

Alex shrugged casually, "Yeah."

Lloyd studied his posture, the coolness in his gaze, and his narrowed pupils. He wasn't lying.

"You could have told us this sooner," Lloyd found himself scowling at the boy.

Alex was definitely amused. His eyes danced with a childish look that Lloyd had only seen in his nephew's eyes, "Would you have believed me?"

He was struck by how wise the teenager sounded, even with his sopping wet, black hair and the tattoos littering his body. Lloyd had no doubt that the boy was speaking from experience.

"No," Lloyd fished a key out of his pocket and tossed it to Griffin, who knelt to unlock the handcuffs.

"No need," Alex held up his hands before Griffin could reach over, "I freed myself while you guys were squabbling in the other room."

Lloyd noticed that Smith and Green were gaping at Alex, looking particularly startled. Didn't they know him the best out of all of them?

"Now, while you lot stare at me, I've got a terrorist organization to stop," Alex stood, stretched, then made his way out the door, "I think they're targeting CIA headquarters."

"_What?" _Lloyd was after the boy in a second, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Alex chuckled, "Don't freak out, Agent Lloyd. They're bombing your torture rooms in order to free some of the prisoners. But, in case you haven't noticed, they're all vacant."

Smith, Green, and Griffin were trailing after the teen. He was walking extremely fast for someone who had just been waterboarded.

_BOOM!_

The whole building shook as if Alex's words had signaled it. The lights flickered out, and Lloyd lost his footing. He was sent sprawling into a wall, taking Smith with him.

"Get off!"

Lloyd was pushed back. He sprung to his feet, the lights flickering back on. Alex was no where to be seen, though Lloyd swore he had been there not five seconds ago.

_BOOM!  
_

Another blast rattled the building.

Lloyd reached for the wall, shouting over the sound of half the building crumbling, "_I knew I shouldn't have trusted you!" _

"_How were we supposed to know we'd be caught up in-" _Smith's voice was cut off as another bomb shook headquarters, "_It's all his fault!"_

Lloyd snarled to himself and began to head down the hall, reaching out to the wall to steady him. He could hear rapid gunfire in the distance. He expected another bomb to go off, but none did. Instead, the gunfire seemed to get louder.

Abruptly, it stopped. Lloyd trotted deeper into the hallway, reaching for a gun that wasn't in its holster.

"Dammit!" Lloyd gnashed his teeth angrily. Alex had probably taken the gun in the confusion.

"Oi! Mate!"

Lloyd spun around, trying to locate the voice. It had to be Alex. Who else had a British accent? He turned the corner cautiously, noting in horror that the teenager was perched in the frame of a window.

"_What the fuck are you doing?" _Lloyd shouted, rushing forward.

Alex grinned at him, tossing his handgun to Lloyd, "My ride's here," he said as the man caught the gun, "Cheerio, Lloyd!"

Lloyd rushed to the window as he jumped out, yelling in horror. He looked down, fully prepared to see a corpse laying on the sidewalk, blood around it like a halo, but there was nothing.

He looked around, confused. If Alex hadn't gone down, he had to have gone… up…

Lloyd looked up, gaping at the lithe figure crawling up a rope. It was attached to a silent, black chopper, marked by nothing but a splash of green paint on its underbelly, "What the..."

"You should have expected that," Smith's voice made Lloyd jump, "After all, you're CIA and all spies are the same."

"Not Alex," Green argued, "He's a special case."

Lloyd agreed silently as the boy swung into the chopper. He had a feeling that he'd be seeing the mini-James Bond soon.

_Cheerio, Rider…_

* * *

**A/N: Hey! I don't know about this one-shot... It's a bit... EHHHHHHHH**

**Well, I have an excuse for my poopy one-shot, if you do care enough. If you saw on my other story, my grandma was admitted to the hospital yesterday. Thankfully, she's alright! Thanks for all of your concern! **

**Anywayyyy... TheMichiganWriter and I are coming up with something similar to SpyFest or even a SpyFest 2015! Neither of us were here for an actual SpyFest, so if you were, please PM me! Our goal is to revive the fandom and bring awesome writers to attention! If you're interested in this, it'll probably take place sometime in June. Again, we're still figuring this out.**

**YAY! Okay, anyway (I say that a lot), please leave a review! I don't think this one-shot was my best, so I honestly won't be offended if someone tells me how suckish this is. Maybe I should rewrite this...**

**Love ya little munchkins!**

**-Al (is very happy)**


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